She is my shadow; wherever I am, she is by my side. She looks like midnight, no white or gray on her. She is intimidating, because you have trouble seeing her face, so you cannot judge intent. Part Labrador Retriever, part German Shepherd, she is the best of both worlds. When properly introduced, she can be the most loving dog. That would be the Lab in her. And yes, she is the first dog that I can trust with children. She will protect and defend them. That part is the German Shepherd in her; she herds and she is one mean (and she means it) protector and defender of her terrain. And she knows every one of those 185 acres because we walk them throughout the 3 seasons.
She looks like a bear when she walks uphill, and she has stopped several cars wandering through our rural retreat. One actually parked to look at her. She has almost eaten the UPS guy, and her reputation has spread to include all delivery people. They do a drive-by and fling the package quickly. I was home one day when I saw the UPS man actually leap sideways when he saw and heard her barking behind a locked glass door.
Is she the best dog ever, among my many. Depends how I would define best. Overall, no. That would fall to our first Miss Emmie who was the most intelligent and perhaps most protective of me ever. But for guarding the llamas, for letting us know every move they make, even at 3 AM, she is unbeatable. And she is my great protector. She is starting to show her age, and so perhaps there is another dog is my future. I think I'll do what my friend Jennifer Brinson did, and get a puppy so this dog can train the new kid on the block. Something sad about our pets aging; still, she has, God willing, years left, and time has not dimmed her ability to protect and defend.
She will never win a best in show, but when it comes to the best overall cat and best in the barn, Allie Cat wins hands down and thumbs up. Allie is a rescue via my thoroughbred horse breeder friend Carol (3 Carols in my life). I wanted to rescue a cat that would live a fabulous life in our very large two-story barn. No takers. Shelters want all their cats to live indoors. I welcomed their visit to the farm to see where this cat would live. No takers. You need to know that Allie Cat has 2 big fur coats as bedding, had 3 different types of beds, and in winter, she is never cold because I make a hay igloo where she sleeps and stays remarkably warm, even when temperatures fall into the minus category. Fans in summer, great food, lots of love.
So I called Carol and she found me Allie, who had lived in a cage for 7 months in a no-kill shelter. Being left to do her thing in a big barn must seem like heaven. Food and water 24/7. Many house cats do not live so well. By choice, she NEVER leaves the barn, occasionally venturing to the concrete pads, but never farther. Our work crew is amazed at how friendly she is and her staying power. She is a great mouser, and a really great cat. Llama protector. Best in the barn, easy keeper. Gotta love her!
Stress--and wicked bad thunderstorms (try hail in May)--always show true colors in man or beast. My second year's experience clipping my llamas (I watch, pray, provide moral support for the girls) was one for the books. The best and the worst of the girls shinned through. So let me begin with Tabbethia Haubold, groomer extraordinaire. I was her last stop at the end of jam-packed crazy week. With four girls to shear and counting down to returning to her Yaphank, NY home, Tabbethia is all business. So is my husband in business matters, so I totally understand her. Twice she called to remind me to have the girls in the stalls, haltered, and ready (her customer before me failed to comply). We were over-the-top-ready, for way too long a time for girls who are used to deciding their day.
Tabbethia is beautiful and incredibly strong, but that's the end of the story. She drove through golf-ball hailstorms and the second-worst thunderstorm, weather according to me. Tabbethia wants her best llama last and the most-stressed first. So we began with Et Cetera, who had a spit fight with Tess during the thunderstorm because Tess tried to mount her. I recited and sang the "Hail Mary"in more ways and versions than all the churches in Christendom combined, 93 minutes worth, so I was really prayered up for the clipping. All the girls benefited from my second-year calm, but Tess actually responded to the prayers, like Barnabas in The Mitford Books. I tried praying again today, and again, Tess responded in the same way. Perhaps it is just her love of attention, but I think differently. Et Cetera was a jewel, that Sophisticated Lady she truly is (if I could rename her, it would be Lady). After her, the rest of the clipping was an exercise in degrees of not as good.
Tess was second, and except for a half-dozen kicks that did not make their mark, she was a good girl. She is a kicker, much like a mare that I had years ago, Scout's Honor. Gentle, calm, but always quick to kick. We took Miss Cierra next, because I was saving the best for last. Cierra is pregnant, due June 10, and except for not liking her belly and sides, and her neck (I forgot to tell Tabbethia about a benign small growth), she was really very good. Excellent for a near-due date pregnancy. Almost no trouble.
Saving the best for last made me wrong again (Mickey's second favorite phrase). Good last year, she was your worst nightmare yesterday. Honestly, I thought we would not get her clipped. Pictures or a video would have been amazing but not humanly possible. The smallest of the four, she was as bad as my 16.3 Thoroughbred-Warmblood cross was once during a storm. Oddly, by the time Tabbethia arrived (spelled her name without looking this time), the sun was out. Hormones, pregnancy, call it what you want, as I see it, Rev was worse than any big, bad horse ever was for clipping.
Without a doubt, Rev was the surprise and a bad one at that. But there were other surprises as well. Tabbethia thinks I am the most non-aggressive person out there, and apparently so does my breeder, Carol Reigh. Funny, isn't it; if they only knew.... Guess Tabbethia based it on my telling her that discovering Rev's toenail issue ruined my Mother's Day (it truly did; I had trouble enjoying what was a wonderful day). Yet she realized that I was not worried, rather a really cool customer, helping her handle clipping Rev. Funny, but I really was non-plussed about her bad behavior. I kept telling Rev she was a good girl, with Tabbethia saying oh not she isn't or NOT! So I sweat the small stuff, but am a real trouper with hard things. I told Tabbethia that I have always known who I am, including my oddities, and she seemed to respect that.
I learned that I will never clip the girls. Ever. She has a job for life, and no amount of money would ever make me change my mind. Frankly, clipping a bad horse is much easier than a bad llama. The chute that Carol sold me is worth a Sumo wrestler's weight in gold. If ever a piece of equipment was tested and passed with five-star general status, it would be Carol's chute. So if you have camelids and you do not have her chute, invest in your herd's future and buy one. After working so brutally hard on the farm yesterday, to go to a go-round with the girls was just another day in the life of a farm girl.
You can discover more about Tabbethia Haubold's business, check out her website, Long Island Livestock Company. She conducts an educational program about llamas, sponsors camelid fiber shows, judges in the show ring, spins her llama fiber and offers yarn products for sale. And we know she is one great shearer; when she had to, she bodily lifted Rev, getting her to stand when the belly harness just would not do the job. And after all that, Tabbethia had a three-hour drive home. God bless her!
Gave you her coordinates, just in case you are a geocaching llama lover like me.
Weather or not, clipping llamas is part of the May landscape, and this year the month is not cooperating. We went from premature summer, catapulting to 90 degrees then plummeting to consecutive days of morning frost. To clip or not to clip is not the issue; it centers on when. At least for this year, I do not have to agonize about taking things into my own hands. Tabitha, who clips camelids from Maine to Florida, and perhaps westward, has a blistering schedule, and I am happy to be on it. Perhaps sometime in the future, when I can not only pronounce but actually act on the retirement word, I will become more hands on. After all, didn't I clip my horses and my daughter's ponies for how many years.... Still, there is a difference between clipping horses and llamas for shows.
Then there's the decision of which kind of haircut. Saddle, saddle and thighs, or a full cut. My very heavily-coated dark Hershey Kiss llama this year is getting the full cut. I am not sure I will like how she looks afterwards, but at least this summer, she will be cooler. Silky white will get a saddle with thighs, my Sophisticated Lady (top image), a saddle only, and my soon-to-deliver mama llama probably a full cut.
Yesterday, in the rain, my wonderful crew of two cut the pasture, and it needed it. I never saw the girls happier than their cavorting and stulting about in 2.5 acres after they were released from 3 hours of confinement in the paddock. Today, when I arrived home, the girls were in the upper pasture, and across the road, near the pond were these avian nomads. I do love life on the farm, weather or not.
Lest I be guilty of romanticizing life on the farm (ok, I do), here's the post that reminds romance readers of all texts that reality does set in on a daily basis. Each season comes with its own particular problems. Today is a classic spring day. Our farmer plowed under the orchard grass in the pasture by our new barn. He was definitely told NOT to do that, but he did anyway. So, he's replanting grass one month behind schedule, and it may not take. The dirt blow back is almost unliveable; everything is covered with more than a thin veneer of good old-fashioned topsoil. Definitely not happy. Definitely not a farm romance.
Combine that with mowing the grass. I have, without a doubt, the BEST HELP! But between the plowing and the mowing, even indoors my allergies kicked into high gear. The silver lining: I do not have to cut the grass.
Spring ushers in a different kind of llama care. The girls need shearing, and I am having huge problems with the person scheduled to shear them. I may need to learn how to clip them myself. Not so terrible, just a huge learning curve. They are not clipped the same way my horses were. Still, I'm not a novice at clipping.
Then there's the constant shift of weather, hot and cold. My biggest concern is always the fans; when to put them on, and worrying while they run. There's also a different kind of clean up; I sweep more often, and am going to invest in an industrial wet/dry vacuum sometime this week. I do love a clean barn. Finally, I do need to groom the girls before they are clipped. And do I gamble that this summer will be better, with time to learn to wash their harvested fiber, spin and use it. Time will tell.
Is a farm work? Absolutely. Constant work, and even with a team of two to four every other week, there is still much to be done to maintain the beauty and romance of the place. I used to be the primary worker; now, even with a team, I still put in 8 hours yesterday and today. Not a complaint; you could not drag me off the farm. As long as a looker-on visualizes the hours of maintenance behind the beauty, it's okay to romance the farm.
Ducks, according to my husband, will never land in our pond because it is too small. Since I tend to think on a grand scale, I certainly thought our pond was big enough for a pair of ducks or even geese, maybe two. Mickey said nope, and when the man says nope, that's code for his mantra, right again.
When you live with a man who is always right, nothing will give you greater pleasure than proving him wrong. Picture perfect is this snamshot of a mating pair of ducks swimming idly in our holding pond.
His thinking is well rooted; ducks like being unlimited in their fear-and-flight pattern. We have three areas surrounding the large pond and the holding pond with plantings and a naturalized landscape. Since the man is right about many things, this one faux pas will likely not even register on his wrong meter. But he is right about one thing: none of our animals ever move or get out of our way. They do not because they clearly know that no harm will come to them. So they stay put and we jump hoops around them. Guess that's true even for the wildlife.
Just could not resist a second photo which will indelibly prove my point. And his response will be: even a blind cow finds a blade of grass. Ah, well, the moment is fun nonetheless.
Each year a barn swallow makes her nest in the very shelted area underneath the roof of the barn door. It's a great space, and she is definitely one smart bird. I can never get close enough to catch her in the nest; my telephoto lens on my point-and-shoot simply cannot handle it. Or perhaps it's the pilot's fault, not the plane. Either way, this is my best shot.
Last year the nest was on the right; Mickey insisted it be removed. I demurred, and magically it disappeared, only to re-appear, rebuilt, on the left. One of the joys of country living is watching the babies fledge. I actually watched the process last year, up close but sans camera (not everything needs to be a 365 photo op).
Sadly, however, life on the farm has a downside--death. I opened the door last Saturday to find a swarm of feathers rise up and greet me knee high in the breeze. Initially, I honestly thought chickens--how did one get in the barn.Guinea hen, actually, judging by the color. Then, as I walked toward the stall area, I found a dead female cardinal by the cat's water bowl. She kills but does not eat her prey.
I always knew that death was a part of the life force, but I just hate having to confront it so closely. Abstractly, I can handle the concept, but being the funeral director is another thing. Still, I am reminded how precious life truly is, and how delicate the balance is often connected to fate. I guess that's life.
She is my shadow; wherever I am, she is by my side. She looks like midnight, no white or gray on her. She is intimidating, because you have trouble seeing her face, so you cannot judge intent. Part Labrador Retriever, part German Shepherd, she is the best of both worlds. When properly introduced, she can be the most loving dog. That would be the Lab in her. And yes, she is the first dog that I can trust with children. She will protect and defend them. That part is the German Shepherd in her; she herds and she is one mean (and she means it) protector and defender of her terrain. And she knows every one of those 185 acres because we walk them throughout the 3 seasons.
She looks like a bear when she walks uphill, and she has stopped several cars wandering through our rural retreat. One actually parked to look at her. She has almost eaten the UPS guy, and her reputation has spread to include all delivery people. They do a drive-by and fling the package quickly. I was home one day when I saw the UPS man actually leap sideways when he saw and heard her barking behind a locked glass door.![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=bc9aa70d-22f9-45e5-bd13-759d7a768e8a)
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